


Fast Money

by infundibular



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infundibular/pseuds/infundibular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two friends take a holiday to watch a recording of their favourite TV show. Amongst other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fast Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still a work in progress. There are some illustrations that will be added soonish (I hope).

 

**ACT ONE: FRIDAY**

**CHAPTER ONE**

 

* * *

 

"Hey, so do you reckon it's true?"

"What?"

"That thing about not looking someone in the eye when you say 'cheers'?"

Simone stops her dazed flicking through the TV channels and stretches one arm out towards the ceiling of the apartment she would call home over the next few days as she tries to come up with a response to Max's question. He had told her on their flight down that someone once told him that someone once told them that if there is no eye contact between anyone who clinks their drinks together when they say 'cheers', the end result is seven years worth of bad sex.

Part of Simone's mind wants to ask if this someone had actually tested this theory, or if Max was actually worried about something so stupid and obviously untrue. All she manages to instead let out in her nearly-asleep state was a long, drawn out yawn and a half-hearted "Nup," before she lets her arm fall back down onto the arm of the couch, knocking the remote control onto the floor as it lands.

"... that's it?" Max was bracing himself for some sort of witty response and couldn't help but feel a little disappointed over Simone's less than enthusiastic remark. "You're _that_ sure it's not true?"

"Not really," Simone says while trying to fight off another yawn. "I don't think I'm awake enough to think about it too much, hey." She leans down with a grunt to pick the remote up off the floor, not wanting to leave the television on whatever inane children's program is playing now.

She thinks - and not for the first time - that the young kids these days really don't have it anywhere near as good as what she and Max did when they were at that target age. She starts flicking through the channels again, hoping to find something more appropriate to leave on as background noise before she takes a look at the time on the screen.

17:26. Either news, just-as-bad children's shows, or game shows that Simone is just not in the mood for right now. She turns the volume down to barely audible and settles deeper into the couch in a bid to get comfortable.

"Neither am I," says Max from behind the kitchen bench overlooking the lounge room. He hasn't paid much attention to what his friend has been doing but has been looking across the benchtops and in the pantry for some sort of tea to drink, just to help the two of them wind down from the day's events.

"You were still thinking about it just then, weren't you?" Simone says, turning the volume down just a little bit more. "Because that was a really long gap between what I said and you saying you weren't thinking about it."

"I was busy looking for teabags!" Max says in defence before he finally finds a box tucked away behind a collection of pepper grinders in the pantry. Earl Grey. Far from his favourite blend, but it'll have to do for now. He tosses the box towards two mugs sitting on the bench, hitting one of them as the box lands.

"There we go, I found some!" says Max triumphantly He then holds the box up and wiggles it in the air to prove his work. Simone doesn't look up.

"It's Earl Grey though. D'you want one?"

There's a pause before Simone shifts slightly and half-heartedly says yes while letting out another yawn.

"You're not falling asleep, are you?"

"Maybe…" Simone feels her eyelids get heavier and heavier, and her head continue with the dull ache it's had for most of the day.

Max hasn't got anything remotely sarcastic to say to that, only replying with an "Okay, then" as he flicks the electric kettle on. He admits to himself that he's feeling pretty worn out from the day's events as well and that he probably wouldn't mind a quick powernap to freshen himself back up a bit. The kettle's steaming away as he tries not to recall the bad flight down, or think about the hellcab ride to the apartment tower from the airport too much.

He instead takes another look in the pantry and counts. One, two, three, four pepper grinders? And not one salt grinder.

The kettle snaps off before Max starts wondering why there's so many of them in the first place. He tells himself as he pours the tea to ask Uncle Ray when they next talk; he must have some sort of reason why he'd keep so much pepper in his apartment.

Simone's eyes are closed when Max brings in the two mugs of tea, and they're jolted open when she hears a loud clunk from the mugs meeting the coasters, and hears Max wince in pain almost immediately afterwards. She turns her head and sees him waving his hands in front of his chest to kill off the sting from hot teacup burn.

"A bit hot?"

"Just a bit, yeah," says Max with a pained and surprised expression. "Those things are thin as, _and_ I was holding the handles."

Simone leans in towards the coffee table to hold her hand close to her mug, and pulls it back as soon as the radiating heat hits her fingers. "Yes, well. I… think I'll wait a bit."

She settles back into her seat while Max takes his on a chair on the other side of the table. He takes his turn to stretch his arms to the ceiling. "Mmmm," he says while trying to hold in a yawn, "but hey. At least we're finally here now?"

"Oh, god yeah." Simone shuts her eyes again. "Remind me to not ever do that again."

"Do what?"

"That whole 'fly on a plane full of crying kids' thing, and then that 'cut across six lanes of traffic with a weird cab driver who didn't know where he was going' thing?"

"Okay." There's a pause. "Hey Simone?"

"What?"

"Don't ever do that again."

"Thanks." Simone reaches back across to her still steaming mug of tea. "Thanks for the tea, too," she says as she starts to wrap her fingers around the mug, forgetting that Max had burned himself on the handles. She lets out a yelp and starts waving her hand to try to relieve her own burn.

"And maybe don't do that either, hey," says Max. Simone casts a withering look.

"Yeah, ta for that."

"You're welcome, says Max as he pulls his phone from his jeans pocket. "So. Before I forget to ask to again, did I send you a copy of that booking email?"

Simone picks up the remote and resumes her search for something decent on the TV while she tries to remember what exactly is in her inbox. "I… think you did?" she says with uncertainty.

"I'll send it to you anyway, just in case." Simone watches as Max opens up his email app, types away for a few moments, then hits the send button. He then clicks his phone off and puts it on his lap.

"When's it on again?" asks Simone as she hears her email notification chime on her phone that is sitting on the kitchen bench.

Max doesn't answer, instead exclaiming, "I should've got that on tape."

"Got what on tape?"

"Your phone actually _not_ on silent! That's got to be, what, the first time ever?"

"Excuse me, my phone's not on silent _all_ the time!"

"Oh, yeah right! How many times have I rung you and it goes to your messagebank and then you've rung me back going 'Oh, sorry, my phone was on silent'?"

Simone gets off the couch to retrieve her phone to read the email, saying "Maybe one or twice" as she turns into the kitchen. Max laughs in reply as she unlocks her phone and opens the forwarded message with the answer to her question.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> _Fwd: Studio Audience - Fast Money - Special Pilot Recording_  
>  _From: Max Whittaker_  
>  _To: Me_
> 
> _ハ_ハ_  
>  _（ ‘-^　)　　n_  
>  _￣　　 ＼　( E)_  
>  _７　　/＼ヽ/ /_
> 
> _\----Original Message----_
> 
> _From: audience@fastmoneyhq.com.au_  
>  _To: Max Whittaker_
> 
> _Hi there Max Whittaker,_  
>  _You have TWO seats booked for Sunday 12 August for the recording of what we think could be the start of an exciting new chapter for Fast Money! The names below will be ON THE DOOR when you arrive at the studio:_
> 
> _\- Max Whittaker_  
>  _\- Simone Blake_
> 
> _WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW : Recording starts at 3pm SHARP, so please ensure you arrive at the studio NO LATER than 2:30pm. We will have some nibbles when you arrive but PLEASE ENSURE you have dinner beforehand. It can also get QUITE COLD in the studio, so please also bring along something to keep WARM during the record._
> 
> _Audience members MUST be 16 and older to attend as the topics discussed are usually of an ADULT NATURE. Please be aware that you may be asked for PHOTO ID._
> 
> _PLEASE also refer to the attached information sheet for directions to the studio as we're filming this somewhere a bit  DIFFERENT THAN USUAL. ;)_
> 
> _If you or your guest(s) can't make it, PLEASE LET US KNOW ASAP by replying to this email with AUDIENCE CANCELLATION in the subject line._
> 
> _We look forward to seeing you there!_
> 
> _x_  
>  _The Fast Money team_

* * *

 

 

"You and your weird ASCII cat things," says Simone while shaking her head. "Did you really type that in before you forwarded it just then?"

"Copied and pasted it, yeah."

"From where?"

"I'm not giving away trade secrets," says Max as he moves from his chair to the glass door leading to the balcony. He doesn't go outside; it's far too cold to even open the door to let some fresh air in.

Simone clicks her phone off and walks over to join him. "Nerd," she says while poking him on the shoulder.

"I know you are," Max retorts.

"Oh, shoosh." There's a slight pause before they both look at each other and giggle for a few moments before they turn back to the view outside the glass door.

 

 

"I didn't think we'd be this far out of town," says Simone while shuffling past Max to get to the door handle. She pulls the door open enough for the cold Melbourne-in-August air to hit her face and make her slam the door back shut.

"And you didn't realise it's that cold out there, either?" asks Max.

"No. No I didn't." Simone starts rubbing her hands together. "But yeah. Um…" She's trying to regain her prior train of thought. "What was I talking about again?"

"You didn't think we'd be this far-"

"Oh yeah! I didn't think we'd be out here. I thought your uncle's place was in the city itself."

"He _was_ in the city for a little bit. I think he moved out this way because… I don't know."

"That's an _excellent_ reason to move out, Max."

"No no, he did tell me; I just can't remember what he said!" Max taps at the door and tries to point towards a footbridge in the distance. "And anyway, it's really not that far into the city. You just walk down, across that bridge there and there's a couple of tram stops - you're only looking about about, ooh, four or five stops and then you're right in the middle of it all!"

He turns back to face Simone, who is still rubbing her hands together and is looking at the city skyline with uncertainty. Max moves to place a hand on her shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"Oi. Don't stress."

"I'm not stressing," says Simone as she puts her hands in her hoodie pocket.

"And you're not that good at lying, either," says Max with a raised eyebrow. Simone looks to the floor without offering a reply.

Max tries to reassure her with another squeeze of the shoulder. "We got through today, and that's probably going to be the worst of it. And…" He trails off as he walks back to the coffee table to check on his tea. He touches his cup, then Simone's, then picks both mugs up and brings them back to the door. "If anything," he says while giving Simone her mug, "I don't think Melbourne's as bad as Sydney when it comes to bringing out the psychoses."

"Really?" asks Simone unconvinced.

"Well, maybe." Max brings his mug to his lips. "You might even like it here."

Simone shrugs. "We'll see." She takes a sip of her tea with Max following suit a moment behind her. They manage to pull a face of disgust almost in unison once they taste the now over-brewed tea.

"Oh _god_ ," mutters Max while Simone takes her mug to the kitchen sink without saying a word. She pours the undrinkable brew down the drain, runs the tap to rinse the mug and the sink, and starts opening the nearby cupboard doors to find a bin.


End file.
